The Chronicles of Evania
by Novaloria
Summary: When Asuka and Shinji start exploring the in-between places of their houses, they discover that fiction may not be as fictitious as we are told. Chapter 3 is now up.
1. Chapter 1: An Early Start

**'The Chronicles of Evania'**  
Chapter 1: An Early Start

(o)

This story is about something that happened long ago when your grandfather was a child. Of course, this will mean little to you if you should happen to read this a century from now, so be secure in the knowledge that practically every event contained herein takes place in the space of three seconds of our time.

To provide you with some point of reference, let us say that our story begins at a time when Harry Potter was an infant received into the grudging arms of his Aunt and  
Uncle, when Lyra Belacqua was still in her infancy at Jordan College, running through the streets of Oxford and throwing handfuls of mud at all those who dared  
oppose her. Terry Pratchett's soul was unreleased at this point in time from the prison that his publishers had used to ensnared it, and _Discworld_ books continued to line  
shelves, forever unsought and indifferent to one another.

Should you fail to draw any connotations from these monuments to their respective timeframe, let us be absolute in the knowledge that it was a time before America ruled  
the world, quite some time before the Dodo was resurrected from extinction to serve as the new household pet, and that should you have any doubt at all in this setting, Denim was still in fashion. It was in these days that there lived in London a girl by the name of Asuka Langley Sohryu.

To say up that up until this point she was a rather average girl wouldn't be strictly true, for the nature of her prolonged stay with relatives too-far removed was a point of  
contention amongst those around her that considered themselves her friends, and the bringing up of the matter in conversation had only resulted in the immediate  
excommunication of the appropriate questioner until such a point that they could win themselves back into her favour.

She lived in a tall Victorian-era house that had somehow survived the German bombing of its neighbours during the war, a fact that was at one stage pointed out to  
the young girl in consideration of her nationality – an observation that cost the boy in question several days of his school time whilst he recuperated from a broken arm.

Gentle, Asuka was not.

It just so happened that on an unusually sunny day for the English climate, she was sitting in her back garden waiting for the sun in her favourite yellow summer dress  
(seldom worn, again thanks to the climate) reading _Alice in Wonderland_ for the third time. What made this day doubly unusual was that as the Red Queen was pronouncing presumptuous judgement upon her courtiers for the theft of her prized tarts, the sounds of sobbing from the garden adjoining hers reached Asuka's ears, causing her to hastily prop the book open against her wooden sunlounger as she went to investigate the noise.

It was, Asuka decided upon reflection, hardly worth her investigating, for the source of the sobbing was soon found to be a common-looking boy crouched at the bottom of  
his own garden alongside a small and inauspicious gravestone. It had been hastily erected from the looks of it, and bearing no visible trace of any markings that might denote the identity of what presumably lay in a grave beneath it. Asuka determined that the monument clearly meant something to the boy from the sobs that wracked his fragile frame, and it was her assumption that the grave contained some beloved pet, recently deceased.

Certainly, nothing worth the fuss of crying over. In Asuka's opinion, ever allowing such an inferior being a place in your heart was simply asking for trouble, and she decided at length to denounce the boy for his stupidity.

"A pet, was it?" said Asuka, leaning over the fence and looking particularly smug, or as she thought herself, _superior_.

The boy turned hurriedly toward her, visibly startled, and hastily set about drying his eyes on the sleeves of a shirt that had clearly seen better days. It looked to Asuka as if the boy had been dragged backwards through a bush, or more suitably, pulled from the earthen grave. The latter thought cost her a small shudder as all-too vivid childhood memories asserted themselves, but she shrugged these images off and eyed the boy like a hyena ready to tear the last piece of meat from a ragged carcass.

"Not- not exactly," replied the boy in plaintive tones, once his sobs has subsided somewhat.

"What then, a plant?" The boy shook his head slowly.

"Then why the hell are you so hung up about it?" demanded Asuka, exasperated at being found wrong twice in a row. Failure was not to be tolerated.

"It's my mother," said the boy in a voice barely above a whisper. Asuka paled visibly.

"Your- your mother? Why the hell is she buried here? Are your family idiots – she should be in a cemetery or something!"

The boy looked up at her with dry eyes, and an unreadable expression on his lightly tanned face.

"Oh, she isn't buried here or anything. This is just a marker – to show that she existed at all. I don't know where her body is buried, if it even is."

"Why wouldn't it be-"

"Because my father couldn't take it and so he- so he _destroys_ everything to do with her- everything!"

Asuka took no great amount of time in the receiving of this information, but with the knowledge came a preoccupation that was all too familiar to her. There were  
similarities between herself and this boy that seemed almost too coincidental to be believed – but she could hardly accuse the boy of lying about what was undoubtedly a  
horrendous event for him too, so she determined that a new approach was in order if she was to ascertain the boy's truth in the matter.

"I'm Asuka, what's your name?" said Asuka at some length, placing her hands firmly on her hips in a show of authority over the proceedings.

The boy seemed lost for words, and Asuka was beginning to wonder if perhaps he was not entirely right in the head, before he carefully picked himself up from the  
earthy patch and made his way to the section of fencing alongside of which Asuka was stood. He proceeded to extend his hand (a little clumsily, Asuka thought) in the  
traditional fashion of greeting and announced himself to her.

"Shinji Ikari," said Shinji.

(o)

To say that Asuka and Shinji immediately became the best of friends would be lying to a considerable extent. Rather, Asuka tolerated Shinji with a grudging respect that  
placed him a little way above a number of the boys attending her school. Or rather, _their_ school, as they were soon to learn.

In any case, neither currently had to deal with the expectations of their school or its subject tutors, for their friendship had begun little more than a week into the summer  
holidays, and after a week or two Asuka was content to drag Shinji around with her to any event that interested her or source of conceivable adventure that presented itself,  
and with the exclusion of that matter concerning the tombstone in Shinji's garden, their topics of conversation varied considerably; from the state of their neighbourhood  
to discussion of the few books that Asuka had lent Shinji, for the relations he was staying with were too concerned with their duties at work to cater for his budding  
appetite for literature.

It was around this time also that the pair encountered another of their classmates, on the seemingly innocuous task of borrowing course textbooks from the public library.  
Shinji was the first to see her, for Asuka was already a row ahead picking out a number of teenage romance books concerning affairs with older, more mature  
boyfriends, whilst Shinji was waylaid under those volumes that Asuka has already chosen and deigned him their carrier. It was as Shinji was walking through the science  
fiction section, past Adams, Asimov and Dick, that he came across a girl aged roughly around fourteen by his estimate, as he and Asuka were.

She wore the girl's version of the school uniform that Shinji too wore outside of school, simply for lack of other clothes to wear (a fashion that Asuka had determined  
to part him from, once a suitably cheap clothes shop could be located), and was striking in her appearance for two additional reasons: her eyes were red as rubies,  
whilst her hair was of a blue rapidly approaching his own eye colour. Shinji, not one of the world's foremost conversationalists at the best of times, was completely dumbstruck for anything to say to her – the uniform alone could be in use by any number of other schools in the district, and it seemed to him presumptuous to start a conversation with her when she was clearly studying.

These procrastinations and many more besides at last reached their fruition after several moments of internal contemplation, by which time the girl had already moved across the aisle. Determination (or stubborness, as Asuka had classed it) being one of Shinji's few strengths in life, he was resolute in the decision to make contact. Inspiration struck him at last as the girl pulled from the rack Jules Verne's Twenty _Thousand Leagues Under the Sea_, a novel he himself had developed a great affinity for (it was the second of the books Asuka had leant him from her own collection) and could potentially use as a springboard for conversation.

Attempting in the space of several seconds to recall the myriad of adventures that had confounded the crew of the _Nautilus_, Shinji returned his gaze to the object of his sudden and practically inexplicable affections – or at least to where she had stood, for she was now nowhere to be seen. Refusing to give up at this new, sudden and unwelcome hurdle, Shinji hurried to the next row - and the next – and so forth, until he had reached the furthest and most obscure section of the library, to which seldom few venture ('Politics'), without any semblance of success in his search for the enigmatic girl. It was an odd occurrence for Shinji, and stuck in his mind for weeks afterward.

It was an event that would return to haunt him later on.

That is of course not to say that there were numerous other occurrences throughout the holidays (for what is a holiday if not a time for adventure?), but this was by far the most relevant, as you may find at a future point. An event of even greater importance, and indeed the beginning of the first true adventure, took place several weeks later.  
The day itself was typical of the English climate in that it was neither pouring with rain, nor bedazzled with sunshine, but a singularly neutral kind of day – the sky was  
clear but clouds loomed; it was pleasantly warm but a cold wind swept the air; ice creams were sold but it seemed somehow inappropriate to eat them. For Asuka, this  
surfeit of unwelcoming outdoor conditions was a perfect opportunity to reveal to Shinji something that few people had seen before – a fact that she repeated to him in  
as many words and she grasped him by the hand and dragged him through her house and up the stairs to her bedroom, which she promptly entered, shutting the door firmly behind them.

To say that Shinji was more nervous than he had been at any other point in his life would not be entirely accurate, but it certainly felt that way to him. He had been  
brought up from an early age by his foster parents with the belief that a girl's bedroom was very much a forbidden zone, and the maniacal gleam radiating from Asuka's eyes did little to disconcert him as to the proposed nature of the trip.

"Okay Shinji, close your eyes and don't open them until I say so!" said Asuka playfully, taking his hands in her own and placing them firmly over his eyes.

If she was aware of Shinji's clear awkwardness at the situation, she wasn't letting on about it. It had taken several days of internal deliberation at her own behest of whether or not to show Shinji what it was she was currently uncovering. To put none too fine a point on it, it was a place that she had never before shared with a friend (or friend-esque acquaintance, as she regarded them) and certainly not her foster parents, with whom she shared little in terms of affection and who, in turn, reciprocated.

"So, what do you think?" Asuka's excited voice sounded out of the darkness beyond his trembling hands. "You can look now, idiot!"

Quivering with a mixture of something between fear and anticipation, Shinji uncovered his eyes whilst keeping them ever downward-cast, and let his gaze travel  
slowly upward to where Asuka had uncovered her-

"Why is there a hole in your wall, Asuka?"

"Why is there a tent in your pants, Shinji?"

(o)

Asuka's most closely kept secret was a space of about the width of a grand piano, the height of a Victorian mantelpiece and the depth of a Britney song (less than a meter,  
for those in doubt). As Shinji was soon to discover, however, this small space opened into a much larger passage that stretched some way in both directions – this was  
visible only by the light of an antique oil lamp lying some way into the space, around which were spread numerous objects of varying size and description.

It was essentially an Aladdin's cave of all that Asuka deemed special to her in some way. There were piles of books, some of which Shinji noticed still retained library  
prefixes, stacks of records, magazines and birthday cards, Christmas cards and postcards, all arranged into small piles. There were a few items that Shinji was  
surprised to find in her keeping; a half-empty packet of cigarettes ('half-_full_', Asuka interjected), several empty bottles of a German beer called 'Schmucker' (of which  
there were many more in a crate opposite), and a story Asuka had been writing that she refused to let Shinji see – the subject of guitar-wielding teenaged space girls  
seeking ultimate power through suspiciously-shaped portals in the heads of younger teen boys was not seen to be entirely in lieu with modern literature, though Asuka was  
convinced that a cult following would one day emerge.

To say that Shinji was relieved at the sight of this hidden room would be a considerable understatement, for it was at around this point that he came to realize two things; that Asuka could at times be uncompromisingly odd, and very much like him in a number of ways, and that at other times she could be (as he had suspected over the course of the time they had spend together) to put none too fine a point on it – entirely irresistible.

Asuka watched Shinji's face for any signs of movement or awareness of the hand she was belatedly waving back and forth in front of his face. When it became clear that no  
response would be likely for some time, she decided that it might be as good an occasion as any to revaluate this rather bizarre individual. Somewhat precociously, and as a therapist or councillor might have done in her position, she reached the verdict that Shinji was, if nothing else, considerably unhinged. It was with this confirmation of her earlier suspicions that she decided he might indeed be perfect for her.

If ever adventure was to be found in this most dreary of platitudinous estates, she felt quite confident that Shinji could be relied upon to take the blame, the first step  
into any situation she might consider dangerous, or failing both of these serve as some type of human shield.

Quite, quite perfect.

Now it just so happened that this vacant space into which Asuka had piled her most private of personal possessions did not exist as some flaw of the house's design, but  
instead was merely part of a larger passage that occupied the space between the brick wall of the upstairs rooms and the sloping tile roof that lay above and slightly to the  
side of them. This tunnel had no floor to speak of, for below lay only the rafters that structured the roof, and it required some skill with which to traverse these narrow  
beams. It was into this tunnel that Asuka proceeded to drag Shinji, who had at last broken from his internal reflection the moment he found himself standing on a  
veritable tightrope above the ceiling of the room below. Asuka, who had already crossed the rafter and was about to proceed onto the next one, beckoned somewhat  
exasperatedly to him.

"Hang on for just a minute, Asuka. Are you sure you know where you're going?"

"You mean 'where are _we_ going', slowpoke," Asuka countered, her excitement and anticipation all too visible for Shinji, who had never been the most accomplished  
gymnast.

"We're going exploring!" came the cheerful response.

(o)

To Be Continued.


	2. Chapter 2: The Wrong Door and What Lay B...

**'The Chronicles of Evania'**  
Chapter 2: The Wrong Door and What Lay Behind It

(o)

So it was that by the time the two had reached the other side of the roof – or where they presumed to be the other side, for it was very dark by now – both were beginning to wonder if perhaps some type of nourishment would have been such a terrible idea. Asuka had taken to voicing this miscue increasingly verbally. Shinji was quietly glad to have made it this far alive.

"Are we there yet?"

How Shinji would had any idea of where they were, the point of origin being Asuka's house and the destination being somewhat unknown (Asuka supposed that Oxford couldn't be too far away, but that they might pass it in the dark), didn't stop Asuka for asking the question incessantly. Shinji remained reverently hushed.

"_Are we there yet?_"

This was becoming a tad unnerving. Why was he being so quiet? Any other time, Asuka would have dismissed it as shyness, but the two of them were alone in a cramped passageway lit only by the daylight intruding through cracks in the tiled roof. This was no game. Something had happened, something horrific. Only Shinji had seen it, and it had crushed his spirit into servitude. What would happen when it came to her own turn with the fiend? Shinji remained traumatically silenced.

"Are-are we there yet?"

It was no longer a game. Things had become deadly serious and Shinji, like the idiot he was, had nothing to say to her. What could his motive be? Had taking him with her been the right decision to take? It could all be a ploy; the garden scene, the jump-ahead to an established friendship, the inevitable romance to come – he was a spy! How it all fitted into place. He was conspiring against her to do away with her in this dark and desolate place, even as she thought to herself. Could he hear her thoughts?

"_Shinji_, talk to me _now_ or I'll push you through the _floor_!"

"What? What is it?"

"Don't play games with me, third child of a family of four! Are you planning or conniving or conspiring against me?"

"No! No, of course not!"

There was silence for a few moments. Was he duping her? She was as tired of this constant questioning and felt it time to move on. She would have to watch him very closely from now on. He had deep blue eyes.

"Well, don't think about doing so."

"O-okay."

"Is that a door?"

(o)

The most peculiar sight stood before the two children, for they had reached a portion of the corridor that appeared not to be part of Asuka's house at all, for before the children lay the remnants of a brick partition, which would of course connect to a partition beneath the attic level to form the west wall of the house. In all apparentness, the border had been removed hastily, for bricks lay scattered about the breach, some still fixed together by crumbling concrete. Beyond this former barrier lay a door.

"Have you ever come this far before?" Shinji asked, feeling more alienated than ever in this strange environment.

"No," replied Asuka shortly, stepping gracefully over the residual border to examine this new and intriguing object her house has bequeathed to her. In spite of its unusual placement, the door appeared fairly unremarkable. It was not old, nor was it new. It simply was.

"Careful of the frame," Shinji warned hesitantly as he followed her to the apex of the gateway, "the wood might have-"

It was of course too late; for Asuka's ever-present curiosity had overcome her. She had barely touched the doorframe when she withdrew her hand with a short gasp and cradled it to her chest, her face betraying discernable pain.

Shinji was at her side in seconds, but stood in front of her dumbly, unsure of whether his assistance would be appreciated. After a few moments he felt an unexpected warmth upon his palm. Asuka's right hand lay there upturned, a solitary shard of wood protruding jaggedly from the already swollen tip of her index finger.

"Get this out for me, Shinji. Please?"

Asuka was beyond the usual asperity with which she would normally have addressed him. It really hurt.

"Sure, I-" Shinji hesitated. While the splinter had initially appeared to be buried just under the surface, it now seemed to be embedded halfway into Asuka's fingertip. The pain was becoming more pronounced, for Shinji saw the tears an instant before they were hurried brushed away. Asuka's voice sounded strained and husky.

"Please, it _really_ hurts."

Shinji was already pinching the body of the fragment between his finger and thumb, but if anything his efforts seemed to bury it deeper into the skin. By the time he removed his fingers barely a minim of the intrusive sliver remained above the skin. Asuka's breathing had become heavy and she could no longer keep up with the tears falling from her reddened eyes.

"I don't care w-what you do, just _get it out_."

The distressed young boy scoured his mind for a more effective means of removal. In the end, it was one of his oldest memories that assisted him. Taking a firm hold of Asuka's hand – the splinter now buried below the surface of the skin – he lifted it to his mouth and bit down with his teeth upon the inflamed area, snagging the head of the miniature spear between his teeth.

Even through the pain, Asuka felt it. A sharp discomfort, but warmth too. A tingle of what seemed to her like electricity – and then it was over. Shinji kept a tight hold of her hand, but inclined his head away from her and spat the offending tormentor from his mouth.

Her finger still felt as if it were on fire, the neurons still sending back waves of malady from the tip of her finger to her palm. There was no blood, and while this seemed unnatural to her for a time, it was not unwelcome. Shinji was standing statically in front of her, a look of intense concern written across his face. She wasn't quite sure what to say – it was the first time she'd ever needed assistance with anything. It was also the first time she'd received it.

"Thanks," The word tasted bitter, but it was all she could think of. She focused on the residual pain, trying to block it out, as she had done many times before.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Yes. A lot. It'll be fine though. Come on, help me open this door."

Shinji was stunned. Less than a minute ago she had been cradling herself in pain, and now she wanted to return to the action that had brought her the pain? It was something he never would have done himself; he would have considered it a lesson learned and returned home. He would probably never attempt the action again. Asuka was incessant when she wanted something done. It brought to Shinji's mind the image of a child repeatedly pushing its fingers into an electrical outlet, receiving a shock each time but continually probing. Shinji wasn't sure if he would ever be so reckless.

"That was a really bad splinter, huh? It was as if it was fighting against me when I tried to pull it out. So then I-"

"Yeah, I was there," Asuka sounded tired, her fingers absently hovering inches above the surface of the door. She had learned _something_ then.

"I remembered it was what my mother used to do when I was little. I.."

It was cruel to let him trail off into silence, but Asuka had to rebuke him. She had to – he was too close – she had to regain some sense of normality. So she reached forward and turned the brass handle of the door. Had there always been a handle? She supposed that there must have been.

(o)

The handle shifted silently beneath Asuka's administrations and light flooded out at once into the corridor, bathing the two children in a light that was extraordinary in its purity and was yet distinctly artificial, something created by man in the image of perfection. It was a trend they would increasingly come to recognise.

'No,' Shinji mouthed, recognising the interior at once.

The room was perhaps twice the size of a sitting room, the walls constructed of an engraved stone that Shinji knew all too well. Carvings snaked across the ceiling, the walls and even the floor. At the very end, opposite to the single window in the room, lay a desk. Behind it was a chair.

"We need to go.. now." Asuka was so shocked at the urgency in his voice that she would have followed him out in that moment without further debate. Had the voice from the other side not answered.

"That will be quite unnecessary. We have wasted quite enough time already."

Asuka felt her legs grow numb as the voice undulated around the cold walls of the room. It was almost familiar – recent, and yet there was a coldness to it she had never heard the like of before. It did not help matters that she was feeling increasingly nauseous, a feeling she attributed to the sudden rush of adrenaline from the splinter incident. At what point the reaction had taken place, she could not, would not accede.

"Time is precious to us all, Shinji, particularly to your friend there," the voice continued melodiously, treading like a tightrope the line between poetry and cruelty, "you had both better sit down with me for a few moments."

Shinji's head lowered as he surrendered to the absolute despondency he had known for so long. Asuka was by now leaning heavily against Shinji's side, and it took the majority of his strength to keep them both from falling. Entirely captivated by the sound, she slipped from the conscious frame to another place. Shinji gently shouldered her weight against his chest, directing her listlessly to the far end of the room.

"Coming, father."

(o)

To Be Continued.


	3. Chapter 3: All That He Wished

**'The Chronicles of Evania'**  
Chapter 3: All That He Wished

(o)

"I hope that the floor isn't too uncomfortable for you," Gendo continued, staring intently at the pair over the narrow rims of glasses perched just below his eye line.

His features were sharp and angular; the skin pulled tightly over the bone, as if he were wearing not so much a face, as a sheet of paper fastened tightly about his skull. His mouth was a horizontal line that veered away threateningly at both ends, the beginnings of a stunted smile that would never grow beyond an arrogant smirk.

"I never foresaw the need for other chairs in my _private_ study. Not that you'll be seated for long, of course, but formalities must be maintained."

Shinji could see no option but to play his part in the feigned conformity, and descended carefully to the floor, making sure that Asuka was supported until he was sitting on the cold marble with her head cushioned against his lap.

Observing that this step was complete, Gendo shifted himself forward in his chair until Shinji was enveloped in his towering shadow.

"Now that we're _comfortable_, there is the small matter of your trespassing past the limits that we have discussed on prior occasions. What have you to say for yourself?"

"I- we never meant to come this far. We were just exploring Asuka's attic and then- the passage, we just went a little way along- the door.."

"So then, a misunderstanding."

"Yes. Yes, father."

"Well," the smirk deepened, "however coincidental your arrival, you have chosen _or been chosen_ a most opportune time. I have withdrawn my presence, as you know, from the public eye. The decision has paid off, and I have acquired some objects of considerable value. Entrusting them to your care so spontaneously is not an appealing alternative, but it must be done."

"Me- my care? Father, I've done as you've asked so far, but you _must_ help Asuka! She's breathing but- I can't wake her up!"

"That is.. to be expected. She has encountered a defence that her infantile mind could not possibly prepare her for. That she survived at all is a curiosity. I do not deal in chance."

"So," Shinji struggled to retain control over his emotions. He wouldn't cry in front of his father. He'd promised himself that.

"You won't help her?"

His darker-haired father did not reply immediately, and the younger Ikari was on the verge of rising. There was another door to the room, a way to the left of the desk, and Shinji wondered if it too was unlocked. He had to get Asuka away from here – that much was certain. The nearest hospital was _Guy's_ and at least a mile into the city, but it was all he could think of. Gendo, following his gaze, gave a small cough.

"That door is now locked, as is the one you have entered by. You are quite welcome to try the handles, but it is more than likely that you will enter the same pathetic state as your friend – a condition which, tragically, I have no way of reversing. There is _one_ option open to you if you wish to save her diminishing life, and that is to listen carefully."

Realising that they had once again entered into the current of formality that so pervaded their household, Shinji could only nod his assent. There was no question of resistance against such a man, as his mother had learnt so long ago.

Gendo reached into his desk drawer and brought forth a box the like of which few men of Earth have ever witnessed. It was finely wrought in gold aspect upon a base of burnished silver. Most noticeable of all was the symbol inlaid at its centre, that of a winged lion accompanied by a curved hunting horn.

"This," he declared, flipping open the box's wreathed clasp and gently raising the lid, "this is the cornerstone of all that I have worked for these past fourteen years. The Lilith prophylactic amulet of Arslan Tash."

(o)

The amulet itself, small enough to be held between the finger and thumb, did not inherit any of the traits borne by its container; indeed, it appeared to be of a period, or world, entirely different to that which shielded it. Hewn of a rough, dull rock, it was clear that its significance lay in the markings carved into its upward face.

"Three figures, one prophecy," Gendo intoned, irreverently tugging the artefact from its berth by a length of string tied through a perforation at the apex of the object.

"On the front are engraved images of the Sphinx and the Lupercali. The back is worn beyond recovery, but the third figure is likely Hephaestus. The original may hold the answers to these questions, but that is of little concern to you."

"The original? So this is- "

"A forgery, but hardly worthless. It fooled the Syrian archaeologists for seventy years, and doubtless would have continued to do so. Had it not been _acquired_ for more worthy purposes."

"You stole it?"

What remained of Gendo's grin disappeared and with a sudden motion, he snapped the box closed.

"I forget on occasion that you are still a child. The task you must perform over the next few hours may be beyond you, and I may have made a grave miscalculation."

"Task?" Shinji's voice quavered under mounting concern. "Father, we have to help Asuka, before anything else. Make her better and I'll do anything you say, but please.."

Gendo considered his estranged son through a layer of tinted glass. "Has it not occurred to you that the two are linked? That there may be some greater purpose behind this? Of course not. You're just as shallow-minded as your mother was."

"Don't. Don't ever talk about mother like that."

"She was a fool."

"No!"

"You're no better. Now listen carefully to my instructions. They must be followed exactly."

"What if," the young boy held back a sob, wiping his hands hastily across his eyes as though that would bring an end to the pain, "what if I don't do what you want?"

It was not a grin, nor a smirk that graced the man's face, but a genuine, heartfelt smile. "Suffice to say that, should you fail, sleeping beauty here will never wake."

(o)

Meanwhile.

Asuka awoke to realise she was falling. She had no idea for how long, or how far she had fallen, but most troubling was the realisation that she could not recall anything before the fall, or indeed having tripped or jumped at all.

She tried to look down and make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked at the sides of the tunnel, which she was quite sure had not been there a moment ago, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves: here and there-

"I know this," Asuka breathed, catching sight of maps and pictures hung upon pegs, and jars of- "Orange Marmalade."

Asuka had been here many times before, in her mind's eye, for was it not the opening chapter of her favourite book? The long descent down, down, down (would the fall _never_ come to an end?) the rabbit hole and into the bizarre fairytale world of _Wonderland_. How on earth had she gotten here, of all places?

"Curiouser and curiouser," she murmured.

(o)

"Suffice to say that, should you fail, sleeping beauty here will never wake."

That decided it, surely. Shinji wished he could be a million miles away from the man who was his father, and the inevitable tragedy that would follow shadow-like in the wake of his actions.

"All that I'm asking is for you to travel to a place and make an exchange of the objects. Only the original will have the necessary power to save your friend here."

"Power? Heal?" Shinji whispered, attempting to discern his father's icy intention, "stones don't have the power to heal! Nothing in the world works like that. There has to be another reason. You never do anything without a reason."

The faintest hint of that seldom-used smile tugged at the corners of Gendo's mouth, but his eyes remained cold. The boy had matured somewhat, intellectually at least. Underestimation was a clever man's downfall, was it not? The trick was to reveal only so much as to justify the cause. Best to occupy his thoughts, then.

"The 'stone' this amulet is a replica of, has enough power to restore not only your friend there, but your mother."

"M-mother?"

"The way for her is already prepared, but this one may only be brought back while she still clings to life. Her ship is already sunk beneath the waves and only the crow's nest remains afloat. You must be quick."

Shinji sat silently for a few moments looking at the floor to avoid his father's commandeering eyes. Internally, a battle raged on.

'It makes sense, doesn't it? To save Asuka and mother?' But there was something else to his father's mission – there always was. 'For father not to have done this himself, it has to be dangerous.'

Shinji spoke quietly, at last raising his head to meet Gendo's unflinching gaze. "Where is this place?"

(o)

Somewhat Later.

Shinji's first realisation was that he was underwater, and as is to be expected of someone who has never learnt to swim, he began to panic as his lungs quickly filled with the cold fluid. He closed his mouth as tight as he could, but it had already infiltrated his nostrils and there was nowhere else for the air to escape from. A chilly calm settled over the young Ikari as he surrendered to the insistent liquid.

"It's not like last time," he thought aloud. "There were people all around me, but they didn't know I couldn't swim." He could remember it through a watery haze; mothers holding their babies afloat, a small waterfall off to the side with other children sitting beneath it, seeing how long they could last. The steps to the pool, just a few strokes away. But he'd never made a stroke. Never completed a width. His arms flailed wildly. Undisciplined. Uncoordinated. He was sinking to the bottom of the pool, people moving to avoid kicking him with their legs, thinking he was diving down.

"Help," he whispered quietly.

(o)

Asuka hurriedly let go of the jar and winced as she heard it crash from wall to wall until it was beyond her hearing. What had at first looked to be a jar of pickled gherkins was revealed to contain some things that Rabbis might once have removed from their patients.

'I don't remember those being in the book,' thought Asuka to herself, suppressing another shudder, 'in fact I'm certain Carroll wouldn't have told such a disgusting thing to a young child. This has a distinct _Wicker Man_ feel to it.'

Down, down and down. The shelves contained nothing but books now, a complete a-z of every author she had ever read. Realising this as Brontë's _Jane Eyre_ flashed by, Asuka saw her chance and grabbed as many Cs as she could. In amongst Chaucer, Coleridge, Congreve and Conrad, was what she recognised delightedly to be her own 1968 edition of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_.

"Where am I right now?" Asuka wondered aloud, flipping quickly through the introduction and into the first chapter. "Oh, middle of page twenty-six; 'there was nothing else to do, so Asuka soon began talking again.' Shinji'll be missing me, I should think. (Shinji was the boy next door.) I hope he remembers to wash in the morning. Shinji, you idiot! I wish you were down here with me! There's nothing really to be afraid of here, but you might get whingy, and that's very like being afraid, you know. But do Shinjis get whingy, I wonder?"

Asuka began to get rather sleepy at this point, and might have continued this for some time in the manner of 'Do Shinjis get whingy?' Do Shinjis get whingy?' and sometimes, 'Do whingys get Shinji?' for while the first question was easily an affirmative, the second left open so many possibilities.

She might have indeed thought a lot more upon it, if the fall hadn't suddenly ended with a 'thump! thump!' that left her not a bit hurt upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves.

The room she had fallen into, with its Edwardian whitewashed walls and richly carpeted floor, looked nothing like what she remembered the description to be. Asuka hurriedly reopened the book and skimmed page twenty-seven, but even as she did so, the pages crumbled to dust in her hands.

"This," Asuka declared, brushing the remains from her hands and dress, and staring up at the crystal chandelier adorning the roof, "is a decidedly unfamiliar ceiling."

(o)

To Be Continued.

It's been a while, I know. The move to a novel layout will be continued, as it's good practise for writing professionally. I also think it improves the dialogue pacing, but I expect there will be at least one negative comment on the subject.

I'm actually moving a lot more slowly than I'd imagined I would. This is largely due to skimping on chapter length, but re-reading the source material and researching the amulet (Google it, it'll provide some insight into what Lewis was working with, and where I intend to go) made me want to take the story in an entirely different direction. The best-laid plans of mice and men..

Many, many thanks to Penguin and Lewis Carroll.

To my aunt, for giving me the book when I was little.

To Christopher Lee, for keeping that icky scene in the film.


End file.
